Escape to Romania
by Day of Diana
Summary: The war rages on, even with Voldemort gone. For Hermione's own safety, she weds Charlie Weasley and flees the country. But will this forced, awkward union eventually turn into love? You bet it will! Other pairings kept minimal, main: Hermione/Charlie.


_Hiya, hiya everyone! So... three days before my vacation to Turkey and I churn this out. I think it's a good effort, I do! I knew I had to put something Harry Potter out before I go see part wo on the midnight of July 14th! OMGeezus, it's gonna be the most awesome sauce ever. EVER. I'm particularly looking forward to Tom Felton's part. (Squee!) Everyone, go see part two as soon as possible, okay? _

**DISCLAIMER: **_However much I wish I could own a bit of the magical world of HP, I, sadly, do not. _

_CAUTION: Hermione is 18. That would make Charlie 25. I know this because I visited HP wiki. _

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

She looked beautiful. Her oaken-brown bushy hair had been washed, brushed and curled. It now resembled a thick, wavy curtain of smooth umber silk. Her face was oil-free, pimple-free and dusted lightly with all the right make-up tones. Ginny, her first bridesmaid, had even added touches of glitter to make her cheeks and neck sparkle. Her eyes were smoking blue, heavy but in perfect contrast with her wedding dress. And oh, her wedding dress. With its clean, angular lines to bring out her slight curves and the lace and the plumped up sleeves (plus the extra padding in the chest area), it was like wearing a cloud. A dream cloud.

Earrings made of real diamond were set in her ear, and tiny pins with fairies settled on them were nestled in her hair. Her lips were painted so as to be redder than the reddest rose. Luna, her second bridesmaid, had made a kind of diadem out of lilies of the valley, and placed it gently near her crown. Even her shoes, white four-inch heels, which normally would have made her panic (because of the fall factor!), lifted her spirits (and her height).

Everything was set. Everybody was ready. Hermione heard the music begin to play.

Slowly, the flower-girls walked down the mountain path, scattering huge handfuls of petals as they went tiptoeing down. The five bridesmaids followed, radiant in flowing powder-blue gowns, holding their mixed bouquets near their hearts. And then, clutching the arm of her father, the bride started to walk.

Hermione heard the collective gasps of admiration as she swept herself (and her dad) down the make-shift aisle. She did not think once of tripping on her train, or of stumbling, or even of her audience and groom, standing a little in the distance. She just beamed out at the dark violet mountainside that she faced as she flowed softly along the slope, lighter than air.

When the organ music slowed to a stop, Hermione found herself present at the lovers' arch where the Pilat would do the proceedings. That is, the wedding vows. She hadn't even noticed when she and her father had come up the steps to the arch. That, she decided, she would blame on her nerves.

The Pilat started to speak, and he would probably go on for a while. Hermione had no choice but to listen, or at least pretend to listen, to him. She began going over her vows in her head. Though she was normally extremely confident in her reciting abilities, she knew she was under pressure to perform well, and that made her fidgety. She hoped to Merlin she wouldn't stutter.

And then, as if some force had awakened her groom to her nerves, Charlie's rough hand caught hers, gave a little squeeze, then fell to his side again.

Hermione chanced a glance over at her soon-to-be husband.

He looked handsome in midnight-black robes, made in a very traditional style by his own mother, no less. Hermione had to give Molly credit for her son's appearance. At least she had convinced him to cut his hair.

She made to turn her head back to the Pilat, but some quick movement in the corner of her eye caused her to look swiftly back at Charlie.

He was grinning. He hadn't been before.

Hermione thought he looked even more handsome with a smile on his face.

"And do you, Charles Weasley, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

There was a moment of hesitance. Hermione tensed. 'Remember your lines...'

Charlie nodded minutely, then turned fully to face Hermione and took her hands in his. His smile was gentle, pleasant; not the wide grin that had been on his face before.

"I do. In all of my life I have never found someone who could fit me so perfectly, so completely. You, my darling, hold the key to my body, my soul, and most of all... my heart and my love. Please accept my humble self in all of its flaws and love me as I love you. I promise to keep by your side in times of sickness, health, poverty, wealth, and all of the complications and joys in between. Hermione Jean Granger, would you allow me the utmost honor of becoming my wife?"

He had done it. Hermione felt better. And he had done it with all of the proper inflections, too! He was very good at this sort of thing. Now it was her turn.

The Pilat spoke again. "Very well. And do you, Hermione Granger, accept Charles Weasley's proposal?"

Charlie squeezed her hands. They looked into each other's eyes. He had the same sky-blue eyes as Ron...

"I..." Hermione held back a small sob. The crowd leaned forward. Charlie smiled reassuringly, but Hermione could see the sweat on his forehead. Did he think she would refuse him? Never! This may not be what she really wanted, but if Ron desired her out of harm's way she would do it. Do it for her and his and Harry's safety. But mostly because...

"I do..."

Mostly because...

"I do..."

Because...

"I do. Charles Weasley, I accept your proposal. I love you, and I will stay by your side in sickness, health, poverty, wealth, happiness and despair, as well as all of the times in between. From the first moment of our meeting, I've loved and been beloved by you. You are my pedestal, you are my magic knight in golden armor. Do right by me and love me in this life and I will do right by you and love you in this life too. Rise and conquer me, for I shall give my love to no other man while you watch and protect me."

The Pilat pulled out his wand. Charlie and Hermione gripped each other's hands and stared (supposedly lovingly) into each other's eyes.

The Pilat murmured some words under his breath, and a silver ribbon shot out of his wand and wrapped itself tightly around the couple's entwined fingers.

"Then by the power invested in me," The Pilat began, "By the first wizard Merlin, his son Woderick and the spirit of wizard-kind, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The silver ribbon dissolved into a shiny substance, pouring over Hermione's and Charlie's palms and drizzling itself to the ground, collecting in two ancient golden cups.

The Pilat stooped and picked up the cups, handing both to Charlie. Charlie gave one to Hermione.

"Partake of this drink, and you shall remain married until your dying days. Neither may love another person outside of this union unless ye wish to burn at the stake. This couple shall produce a total of four children, no more, no less, unless ye wish to hang. Now drink!"

Hermione had wished it would have been only two children. They thought it would only be two children. Merlin, why four? Was the war really reducing the number of wizards that drastically, or did they just get unlucky?

Charlie and Hermione drank. The stuff tasted faintly of almonds.

"You may now kiss the bride," The Pilat ended.

This would be the first kiss Charlie and Hermione had ever shared. During the rehearsal, they hadn't been allowed to. And they hadn't exactly had the kind of relationship where they would kiss, even as a greeting. In fact, it was all Harry's idea that she marry Charlie. After all, Romania was a relatively safe place, away from the tragedies of this terrible, but British soil-bound war. In a couple of years or so, when it was all truly over, then she could divorce Charlie and marry whoever the hell she wanted.

If whoever the hell she wanted was still available.

She forced herself to put down the golden cup on the tray provided. Charlie did the same.

And then... the moment of truth. It wasn't as though she'd never kissed anyone else, it was just that this kiss meant everything. It would ultimately seal the marriage bonds between herself and Charlie. And if she didn't do it right, they'd have to do it over again. The Pilat would see to that. And add all of these eyes watching them... talk about creepy. Who watches when two people kiss? Voyeurs, that's who. Ugh. Best do it right the first time...

She closed her eyes and waited. They hadn't practiced this part, but she hoped he knew that he had to lean down to her. It would be too awkward if she rose up on her tiptoes to meet him.

There was a pause, and then she felt his lips touch hers. They felt smooth and feather-light as they caressed her mouth. She opened up just a little bit, intrigued that he was being so gentle. When she had imagined this part in the proceedings, Charlie had always kissed her roughly. She just expected it from the way he looked. But he was probably being gentle on purpose. After all, they didn't even know each other very well, and this had to look real!

Charlie pulled away and Hermione opened her eyes. They looked at each other for a split second, and then the crowd erupted in cheers. The Pilat declared the kiss valid, and then Charlie had her arm in his and was pulling her down the side of the mountain where a white and gold carriage waited with flying horses to pull them off to their honeymoon. Rice rained down on the newlyweds' heads, and Hermione, for all of her effort, couldn't help smiling at the people they passed as they flew down the aisle and up into the carriage.

They were off to Lamour, France.

And Hermione had to conceive a child with Charlie tonight.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

_Mmmm, hm. So, next time = sexy time. Right? Or should they bond a little, first? I mean, come on, Hermione's still a virgin. But she's about to be touched for the very first time... (hah hah, Madonna reference.) _


End file.
